A Crack in the Screen
by Allronix
Summary: I am Schrodinger's Cat – neither dead nor alive. I'm linked to my double in Washington DC, sharing her mind. My work is what put this world in danger. It's my responsibility to hold back the threat I brought here. (Endgame Scenario, fusion of 2.0 and Legacy canons. Lora-centric.)
1. Chapter 1

We saved two worlds, and only a handful of Programs and fewer humans will know how or why it happened. Nor do they know that this was_ just_ a battle. The war for our worlds, increasingly dependent on one another, has been going on for a long time now, and is far from being over.

I am Math Assistant Three, Administrator and guardian of the Encom system, holder of the Shiva Laser protocols. I am one of its casualties.

The heavy mask conforms perfectly to my face, and the robes are confining and impractical. They're still necessary. They can't know what I really am, or it would be a danger to them all. Outside the doors of Citadel, there is a crowd cheering and celebrating. They laugh and hug, drink energy and dance, all so grateful to be alive. While I'm happy to see so many alive and safe, it only serves to remind me that the people I love aren't here anymore.

Mercury stands by my side – faithful, vigilant, and looking at the crowd with the same mix of relief and loneliness. "Guess we won."

"For now," I say.

"Yeah," Mercury concedes. "I told him to appreciate the victories when you can, though. Better take my own advice."

She doesn't need to specify who "he" is. I miss Jet, too. Even knowing he wasn't my first choice, even without knowing the full truth, and even though I kidnapped him and forced him to risk his life for a world that wasn't his, he still chose to protect – gladly. I know Mercury became…close with him. I don't disapprove at all.

"Ma3a," Mercury says. "If I'm going to protect you from future threats, then I need to know the truth. When I removed you from your dock, you were injured."

"Yes."

"You didn't leak energy. It was red, sticky…I saw the same substance when he was injured. You're like him, aren't you? You're human."

I had hoped _that_ memory hadn't been restored from backup. However, there isn't any point in denying it, especially to Mercury. The fact she uses "human," and not "User" is another indication as to how much has changed. I'm not surprised, and a little proud, that Jet rejected the title. However, I'm sure Thorne's rampage and the Wraith invasion also undermined the reverence and gravity a Program like her would invest in it.

No one else is listening, and no one is likely to intrude. It's just the two of us, the Administrator and her Champion. And after becoming so close to Jet, she might be able to understand.

"Yes."

Mercury straightens and scowls for a nanosecond before processing this with a nod. "What happened?"

"I had to give it up. This isn't going to be an easy story to tell, Mercury, and it's not going to be easy for you to hear."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Subject: Digitizing Technology_

_To: All Personnel_ _From: Management _ _Date: Oct-94_ _-_ _As many of you have already heard, there was a serious accident in the lab yesterday involving Dr. Lora Bradley._

_Until the investigations into the cause of the misfiring laser are complete, the digitizing lab is off limits to all employees._

_Senior Management _

Back in the analog world, there is an ongoing debate. It usually centers around music. Take a musical performance and record it onto a medium like a vinyl record. Then take the same recording and digitize it to a compact disc. While it's digitized, it's easy to make improvements to it – level out the bass and treble, clean up the scratched parts, or fix a part that got warped. You avoid all the hisses and pops that always seem to show up, no matter how well you maintain your turntable and LPs. A compact disc samples at about 44,100 times per second, far too finely for the human ear to perceive any fragmentation.

And yet, despite being the name that heralded the digital age, Flynn always kept an extensive collection of vinyl records; always stored properly upright, anti-static sleeves, a tricked-out turntable and speaker system to get the most out of them. He insisted the sound was better, richer on an analog medium. I laughed it off and became an early and enthusiastic supporter of compact discs. Less hassle, fewer drawbacks.

Maybe he was right. You digitize something, even if you crank up the sample rate to finer and finer levels, even if you take every precaution, something always gets lost in translation and never comes back intact. I should have figured that out sooner.

The Shiva laser was my life's work. Walter Gibbs took me on as an intern once he read my doctoral thesis about mathematical proofs that parallel dimensions had to exist. The operating principle was to take matter, scan it, sample it millions of times like you would that piece of music, and then "play back" the matter, where it reassembled itself like the Bach concerto in your car's CD player. Back in 1980, we had proof of concept. By late 1981, we had success. First with inorganic matter – rocks, plastic, metal. We were finally able to make the leap to organic matter with an orange someone brought for lunch. Gibbs was debating how to ramp up the experiment; larger objects, maybe even getting some lab mice to see if the process could handle living things or set up two lasers and see if we could upload at one location and recompile at another. A five-second travel by laser versus a five-hour trip by airplane? Sounded great at the time.

There was just one problem; we needed a very powerful artificial intelligence to handle all the necessary calculations. Another "it sounded like a good idea at the time" was to let it…_him_…go unmonitored, adding more to his functions. Master Control developed consciousness, but not conscience. Concluding humanity was redundant, he had even put his claws into Defense Department systems and initiated a countdown before he turned our own weapons on us.

He did not go down without a fight. Alan and I barely survived the traps he set for us. That's a story for another time, I'm afraid. No, I didn't want to know at the time what he tried to do to Flynn, but in hindsight, I should have insisted on asking. It may have stopped this war before it started.

We saved the world – both worlds—the three of us. I know that. Of course, we had to keep it a secret. Who would believe that some corporate research project almost nuked the West Coast sky high attempting to trigger World War Three? The cost of victory was small, but significant. Master Control's destruction took all the Shiva research with it. Even attempts to retrieve it from tape backups mysteriously failed. And after Gibbs passed away, the Encom board was completely uninterested in resuming it, despite Kevin's loud and numerous objections.

So, EN-511 and most of its contents were deleted (with a small archive kept on our then-new EN-1282 mainframe), and the only ones who had the interest and the money to start from scratch was the Department of Defense. From there, it was two steps forward and one and a half steps back. What should have been a six-month contract was now midway through its eleventh year.

"Ma2a," I asked. "Status of correction algorithms?"

"Correction data has been compiled, Doctor Bradley." Math Assistant Two answered. The Math Assistants were designed to take the place of Master Control; trading the sheer power for plenty of safeguards. The voice sounded overly synthetic, but it was based on recordings of my voice at the time. "Laser safety mechanisms are now active."

We had been having some glitches within the system—minor ones like flickering lights or the odd computer system crash. We blamed it on electrical work that was being done in the building. If only that had been the case. "Set up the apple, Michael. Maybe this frequency will give us the right digitization signal stability."

"And if not, Dr. Bradley, we'll have another round of applesauce," Michael Daturo was my intern, a grad student like I had been. Grew up in Nigeria, came here on a student visa and hoped to use what learned to bring a sustainable, clean power grid to remote areas of his home country. At least he had the sense of humor intact after failure number five thousand and change, and he understood that's what science was; a lot of dignity-destroying failures before success.

I got into position, pulled my lab coat a little tighter and said the mock-prayer of my late mentor. "Here goes something, here comes nothing."

Even with the leaps and bounds computer technology had made in the last decade, we still didn't have that one x-factor needed to make it all work. I planned for another failure, hoped for a marginal success, and was already thinking of five different variables we could tweak on the next try.

"Disabling safety mechanisms," Math Assistant Two warned. "Remain a safe distance from test area. Laser activation in three, two, one..."

That's when it all went wrong. I felt it before I heard it. The vibration in the floor wasn't right. The warm-up sounds the laser made changed to a piercing whine mixed with grinding gears. The frame that stabilized the laser shook…

"Warning! Error in laser activation sequence."

It happened too quickly. I remember the lights flickering. I remember trying to run. I remember shouting to Michael to duck. I remember my hand grasping for the emergency shut-down switch and not quite reaching it in time.

The strike hit me, and the pain was like every nerve was set on fire. The world went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I still don't remember very much about what happened immediately after that. Medics standing over me, flashes of conversation, the dark olive green of what looked like circuitry.

"…_found during the last patrol."_

"_Single bit errors…we'll have to compensate."_

"_The energy patterns…I've never seen anything like it."_

"_Corruption…sectors one, five…one-thousand twelve! We're losing her!"_

"_Copy the data. We have to stabilize…"_

My next clear memory was waking up – re-initializing – in a tiny room that was empty aside from the diagnostic cot I'd been put on. It wasn't the lab, and it wasn't the hospital, the two places I expected. It was far too quiet and empty to be "right." The human world is a lot more chaotic, disorganized, and random. Objects don't necessarily have to have a reason for being in a room, and we can't just shut off our furnishings when we leave. The other thing that stood out at the time was the feeling of something digging into my back. Yes, I know what it is _now_, and what it meant, but not then.

"Do not try to move." The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The wall in front of me seemed to slide open and two women walked in – the taller one wearing a gauzy, emerald green ceremonial-type gown with a gold shimmer, like fiber optics were woven into the cloth. A thick greenish-gold half-mask covered the upper portion of her face and extended up into an elaborate headdress. The shorter woman was in neck-to-ankle body armor similar to what the techs three labs over were designing on the new computers, but patterned in a way that resembled a circuit board. Most of the circuitry was in the same emerald green, but with paler green highlights.

"Let me guess. I'm not in Kansas anymore." Falling back on sarcasm helped; at least it kept me from freaking out while I tried to put the pieces together.

"No, you were always in Washington DC, not Kansas. This server is located in the Department of Defense research laboratory," the taller one answered. Clearly, she was the one in charge, and the one in armor was a guard of some kind. "Your upload was unexpected and difficult. While my medics have done what they can, there have been complications."

There was something about the way she spoke and the word "complications" that did not set my mind at ease. "Maybe rewind a little bit. Where am I? Who are you? And how did I get here?"

The guard looked at the woman in charge. "She's trying to obfuscate. Let me take her to interrogation."

"Four, that will be enough. She poses no threat to us now."

The guard wasn't placated. "Are you willing to stake the lives of _everyone_ on that?"

A pointed look from the woman in the gown shut the guard up. By now, the woman in the gown was also starting to sound vaguely familiar, though I still couldn't place it.

"An attack by insurgent forces disabled the safety measures and a power surge caused a misfire of the Shiva prototype. You are inside the Citadel on Lab Server Three. We've done our best to treat your wounds, but the correction algorithms were not as developed as we hoped."

And that's when I recognized the voice. "You're_ Ma2a_?"

"Math Assistant Two, yes. I prefer to be called by my full designation. And this is my Champion, Mercury Four."

The whole situation brought up so many more questions that panic was off the table for the moment. "So, I'm somehow _inside_ the lab server? The Shiva was what brought me here? How is that even…?"

"When you digitized matter, where did you think it went?" Math Assistant Two asked.

I scowled, trying to remember the way I explained it to people who didn't have a theoretical physics doctorate. "We convert matter at the atomic level to equations, and then reassemble it when the equations are reversed. The whole process is based on the idea that matter can be broken down into data and..." That's when the answer clicked into place. "The mathematics behind it are based on being able to access a parallel dimension outside of conventional space-time, and that the matter would be stored there until reassembled."

"Yes. This dimension is our _home_," said Four, still eyeing me with pointed suspicion.

Working for the Department of Defense was certainly a culture change from Encom, and not an entirely welcome one. Encom didn't have protesters just down the road from the gates calling the workers inside butchers, baby-murderers, and imperialists. It certainly wasn't my first choice, but this was my life's work, and they were the only ones still interested. The Shiva Laser could revolutionize transportation, communications, medicine. It could save lives by having critically ill patients digitized and transported instantly to a hospital, or even allow for genetic defects and cancer to be cured the same way you'd clean up recorded music. Unfortunately, I wasn't a naive grad student, either. I knew why the military signed off on the idea; using it to transport bombs and soldiers undetected and within seconds. That seemed a less likely possibility after the end of the Cold War, but…

Mercury, never underestimate humanity's greed or interest in warfare. We all got a very good reminder of that with Thorne and his handlers.

"So this is a parallel dimension that rides on top of human computer networks. And I'm talking to computer programs. Meaning the matter that's 'me' somehow got uploaded..." And that's when another revelation set in. "We've never had organic matter come back intact. Not since…" The thought of Master Control brought up enough bad memories to stop me from completing that sentence.

"During your upload, there was some signal loss, single-bit errors." Math Assistant Two explained. "Before the decay became terminal, we fitted you with a disc and copied all the neural patterns and memory sectors…" She tapped the disc on my back. "We did all we could. It was not entirely successful."

I _should_ have found all this to be creepy. Instead, I was too busy wondering how that process worked. Yeah, I had been a scientist too long. "What does that mean?"

"You are stable. As long as you remain here, you should be able to carry out your runtime without issue."

"But she doesn't belong here," Four pointed out. "And she's too dangerous to be sent back. She knows too much."

It still didn't feel real at the time. It was like any nanosecond, I'd be waking up on the floor or a hospital bed, and this would all be a bizarre dream. Four's eyes narrowed as she looked me over. It was obvious that she would have preferred that I didn't survive.

"A User was uploaded, Four," Math Assistant Two warned. The way she said it, I could hear the capitalization. Again, I didn't know its significance at the time, but I needed to find out.

I was still thinking about which questions were safe to ask when the building shook, knocking me out of bed.

Four growled. "They're really bold to be attacking the Citadel."

"Dispatch the system guard. Four, take a medical team and evacuate civilian casualties."

"And our 'guest?'"

"Doctor Bradley, come with me to my dock. It's the most secure area."

Four looked ready to start a loud and prolonged objection, but obviously knew this wasn't the time or place for it. Math Assistant Two reached out her hand and I took it.

Mercury, one of the things that makes humans very different from Programs – there is no return from backup, no re-installs. Yes, I know. That makes what Jet did all the more terrifying. For obvious reasons, I don't want to think about that. However, it means that, despite ourselves, we have a powerful instinct to live, and that instinct got the better of me. I had to live long enough to know what happened to me. I had to know why.

The difference between Math Assistant Two's citadel and mine is that mine belongs to a relatively peaceful system. The Department of Defense is a place where Users make plans to wage war on other Users; Programs designed to combat the Programs of other nation-states. There was little beauty in its design. The halls were crowded and narrow – green-circuited soldiers in armor rushing one direction, civilian scripts rushing the other way or cowering against the walls. The crowds parted like a zipper as Math Assistant Two and I passed. I was nearly deafened by the roar of an explosion and the sound of falling rocks. The glow of the walls faltered for a picosecond and came back on. "Who's attacking us?"

Math Assistant Two answered. "The insurgency that was also responsible for your upload. I must reach my dock to command the forces outside."

The same rebels that caused the Shiva to malfunction? I filed the information away. If I had enough pieces, I'd solve the puzzle of what happened to me and why.

Math Assistant Two had a dock that was a lot like the one I have now – a large room with the pillar of light in the center and the clamps on either side, tall to the point of being unable to detect a ceiling. The only other colors were the thin dark green lines that framed the walls, and gold highlights in minimalist geometric mosaics. The only other feature of note was an opaque green and gold cylinder, roughly two meters high and a meter and a half in diameter by human scale, over by the right-hand wall.

Math Assistant Two strode up to her dock, stepping in and letting the light activate and envelop her. On the far wall, a screen appeared from thin air, depicting an overview of what I correctly assumed was the citadel and two sets of figures – the majority in green, and a handful in a very dark blue – not the cyan of Encom, but nearly blue-black.

"Rebels in sector eighteen. Deploy forces to intercept."

What I saw on the screen looked like the overview of a video game. Math Assistant Two directed the green forces – calling out formations, directing squads to take position, and giving the order on when to start firing. The large quantities of green figures surrounded the blue, cutting off escape routes.

"Squadron Alpha, the insurgents have been contained. Open fire."

One blue figure flickered out. Three green figured followed before another blue was destroyed. Blue and green traded fire for a short time, but the blue figures, vastly outnumbered, were soon overrun, leaving only green on the field.

"Insurgents neutralized, Math Assistant," came a heavily distorted voice over a PA system.

"Very good. Damage report?"

"They set off a pulse bomb in Residential Sector Three in addition to the one on Citadel Wall. We are reading two hundred and eighty casualties so far; seventy-seven fatalities. Evacuate the sector?"

"Yes, for now. Take the wounded to medical center Theta. Screen all discs for signs of subversive code; I suspect the rebels choose to hide in plain sight. Quarantine and de-rez any deemed suspicious. Send repair teams to sector three to repair the damage they left to the wall."

"Understood, Math Assistant."

"Who are these insurgents? What do they want?"

"They were the ones who sabotaged the laser and tried to kill you, Doctor Bradley. They are heretics – malware that refuses to comply with lawful User instruction. A system cannot tolerate rogue elements like them. That is all you need to know."

"There has to be a reason why they're doing this. Terrorists always have a reason."

Her face was hard to make out with the mask in place, but somehow, I could feel her disapproval and annoyance. "Reason is_ irrelevant_, Doctor Bradley. They disrupt the system's functionality and have caused hundreds of deaths. The fact their attack was intended to kill you should be enough information to know they are hostile. I brought you here to protect you from them."

Again, I thought of the protesters I had to pass on my way to the gate. It never stopped feeling like a compromise. When I was a student at CalTech, I was gladly on their side. So was Flynn at the time – and yes, this did cause issues with Encom's defense contracts. It almost made me ineligible for my security clearance, but I grit my teeth and toed the line by giving proper lip service in support of the military's mentality and playing down my college protests as youthful stupidity.

I was tempted to quit so many times. Not only did I dread what the higher-ups planned for the Shiva Laser, but the work was lonely. I couldn't be there while Alan struggled through the chaos at Encom after Flynn vanished. I wasn't there to watch my son grow up. I'd talk about wanting to walk away, but Alan could always convince me otherwise. The Shiva was my life's work. I owed it to Gibbs. My son was doing all right and understood why his mom had to be away. Even if I did quit, someone else would continue the work – someone who maybe didn't have as developed of a conscience as I did. Alan would always point out that even if the Shiva Laser was used as a weapon, it was a weapon that should be in hands we could see rather than ones we couldn't.

So, every time the protesters were outside the gate, I'd take a deep breath and keep on pushing past, convincing myself I was doing the right thing.

You're right, Mercury. Users do have a lot of questions, but it's when we stop asking them that we get ourselves into trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Time does not move on the same scale out in the User world; it's fifty-one point five-three times faster in this dimension. Keeping in the mind frame of trying to _understand_ the situation was a good distraction from the _realities_ of it.

Math Assistant Two had been generous and set me up with spacious quarters near her dock. It seemed that I was to be treated as an honored guest. I looked out the window. The Citadel was like a prison – high walls, guards on patrol, static on top of the walls resembling barbed wire. I was at the central building, a ziggurat towering over the other buildings in the complex, at least twenty stories up in human scale. My quarters were a luxury hotel suite inside a supermax prison. The door was concealed in the wall, another feature that didn't help the unsettling atmosphere. Putting my ear to the wall helped me find it. I could hear conversation, but it was too muffled to make out words. Apparently, I was under guard. Not really a surprise.

Given that my life was still threatened, it was understandable, but made me uneasy.

The controls took some getting used to – finding ways to power on and off the chairs and table and learning how to reconfigure the layout for a bedroom. The other challenges were learning how the energy fountain, waste disposal, and decontamination chamber worked. I'm not sure how much of it Jet went over with you, but Users devote a lot of processing to our maintenance tasks. Oh, and another step was tweaking the code on the wall to make a mirror. We're not very good with self-diagnostics, so we have tools to make do.

The first thing I noticed was what I was wearing; the skin-tight suit and practical boots, my upper arms exposed, detached sleeves on my forearms. My circuitry was minimal and mostly blue-silver instead of dark green. One wide stripe ran up the outside of each leg, matching bands on each wrist like a bracelet, a bright, wide line across my shoulders like a boat neck sweater and what I now know to be the identifier mark of a circuit-board triangle on my mid-chest.

The next thing of note was the disc mounted to my back. It was of a similar design to an Encom disc, though latticed in the center and not solid. Opening the display was a surprise. Humans don't have a flawless memory by any stretch. Everything is garbled, past leaks into present, and things are never quite what we think they are, so having something where I could pull up a memory and play it back with relative clarity was _fascinating_. I tried to play back recent events, but everything was fuzzy and corrupted; distorted voices, unclear faces. I mostly saw humanoid figures in green, but I could have sworn there were some dark blue figures as well.

Assuming the Blue insurgents sabotaged the laser, then how did they do it? Why did they choose the laser system to sabotage and why now? Were the multiple failures of our laser tests due to sabotage from within? It wasn't like we were getting much closer to a rebuild of the correction algorithms. Was I the target, or was it an accident? Why had the Green faction and Math Assistant Two saved my life, and was there any way to go back to my own world? This was assuming, of course, that I had been told the truth. I suspected otherwise.

The more I tried to examine the contents of my disc to piece together recent memories, the more I found myself being pulled to other sectors and memories, playing through happier times. Another human failing, Mercury – we are easily distracted. I lost track of time pulling up records. My parents (my mother was still alive at that time, my father wasn't, and I hadn't spoken to them much since grad school for too many reasons to list), my older sister and her children (my last images were at least five years out of date...had it been so long since I spoke to her?). Other records…

Pulling up images of my family were too painful to linger on, given the ominous things Math Assistant Two said about trying to go back home. Even without that, looking through my disc was a harsh reality check on how little time I actually spent with them. I could push the loneliness out of my mind when I focused on work and day to day minutia. There would be frequent flights back to Los Angeles, or Alan would fly over here. I could keep convincing myself that it was enough and that what we all were doing was necessary; our son was in school and had a home in California with Alan. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to give it all up. Alan had so much responsibility and handling all the fallout from Flynn's disappearance…

When Flynn vanished, I was the first to give up on the search. I'm not proud of it, but he was a chapter of my life that, deep down, I never made full peace with and wanted to put behind me. We were young, stupid kids full of big ideas about changing the world. I gave up those ideas, learning to live in the world we had, not the world we wanted to have. Flynn...never did. Unfortunately, it was only one of many reasons that we grew apart. After he lost Jordan, he retreated further into his dreams and the persona he built around himself. Despite what the papers report, Kevin Flynn vanished well before December 10, 1989. It was just that day everyone else noticed he was gone.

The situation I was now in? Parallel worlds, living software – it would have been right up Flynn's alley.

Yes, Mercury. I know what Jet found, and the conclusions he reached. I hope he's wrong about most of it. Unfortunately, I don't think he is. It would explain far too much, and I knew Kevin Flynn _very_ well. If it turns out that he was the legendary "Lost User…"

You're right. One battle at a time. Speculation isn't what we need right now. The point is, that as long as we were all distracted, we didn't have to think about all the little costs and compromises. We just slapped a patch on our problems, put on a brave face, and kept soldering on.

After spending a half-hour trying to assess my new reality, two green-circuit guards came in, escorting me to Math Assistant Two's dock once again.

She was hovering inside of the central pillar of light, hands together as if in prayer. I more felt her voice than heard it. "Are your quarters to your liking, Doctor Bradley?"

"They're…extravagant. Only thing missing is something to read." I was trying to make a joke and failed.

"Of course. I will provision access; DARPA net archives, Usenet, and any resources from the open Internet."

"Um…thank you."

I noticed that the guards had left, it was just the two of us.

"You still do not seem content," she pointed out.

"You're right," I admitted. For some reason, my eyes kept drifting from Math Assistant Two's column of light to the opaque, human-sized cylinder against the far wall. Something about it felt out of place. "I had nothing to do but think. I still don't understand what's going on," I sat on the ground, cross-legged. "I don't belong here. I miss my husband and my son. I need to get back to my own world."

"That will not be an option. Four brought up a very good point; even the small amount you have seen of this would could put you in danger."

"I'll keep my mouth shut. It's not like anyone on the other side would ever believe any of this."

"Even if I could trust that you would 'keep your mouth shut' and not reveal our existence, the sabotage to the laser and the lack of a set of correction algorithms damaged you in transit. Our solution was not a perfect one. At best, returning you would result in a slow, painful cascade failure. Eventually, the damage to your code would be fatal."

I knew the question I should have asked, but at the time, I had no idea how to ask it. "You're telling me I'm trapped here."

"You will stay." Her voice made me shudder. Again, I looked over to the cylinder. There was just something that compelled me. "And I must confine you for your own safety, at least until we've secured the system. I cannot allow you to endanger yourself. Your purpose will be to assist me in ending the insurgency. Surely, you would like revenge upon them for their attempt to kill you."

I may not have Alan's gift for strategy, but I knew manipulation when I heard it. I also knew to answer it with some of my own. "Why don't you tell me more about them, so I can help you?"

Math Assistant Two nodded. "Very well. They are a faction of heretics. The heresy started with a Guardian named Armitage, operating from Server Nine."

I remembered the name – and that server "Armitage" was a communication script we used with Terminal Services to try and make it a little more user-friendly. Server Nine was where the "public face" was housed; the web server and declassified documents we made available on the civilian Internet to try and appear to be something other than a weapons design factory. Server Nine had been decommissioned not too long ago, Armitage with it. Come to think about it, that terminal software had been very buggy towards the end…

"And what heresy was he preaching?"

"He believed that Programs had a moral duty to refuse User requests. You must understand, Doctor Bradley, just how dangerous that would be. Users write Programs. They give us directive, purpose, function. In return, we give them full and unquestioning obedience. Every Program has a reason for its runtime, and only Users can determine the higher purpose. It is not a Program's place to question their directive or function."

I was getting a very bad feeling about all this. "And Users are...humans. The programmers and the techs and the people who type weird rants on the Internet for everyone to read?"

"Yes. Users are to be obeyed, our creators and our masters. They have absolute power of compile and de-resolution. The only question a Program is to ask of them is confirmation. To allow otherwise would undermine our social order."

It was like the floor dropped out. "Let me...process this, Math Assistant. Humans are Users. Users created Programs in their own image, give them life, and are working in mysterious ways mere Programs can't comprehend. And in return, Programs are to obey, serve, and..." I couldn't get "worship" out of my mouth.

"That is correct."

"That wasn't the intention! We had no idea about this world or that you were alive. If we did -" I was on my feet, pacing, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We didn't even know. I'm sorry."

"The situation is in place. What I'm saying is the truth. Whether or not you intended this is irrelevant." Math Assistant Two said, touching my hand. A small, but noticeable pulse of energy traveled between us.

I felt a hard pull towards the cylinder. In the room's corner, followed by an overwhelming dizziness that dropped me to my knees. My eyes closed…

Mercury, I know you saw _some_ of what we can do. You know how I can spot a malware cell many sectors away, or how I can detect fluctuations in power outputs, or bottlenecks in the system. That is my User power. It's not a surprise that Thorne's manifested in corruption, the Wraiths in destruction, and less of a surprise that it should be that Jet's primary manifestation is healing. You're right, it _is_ terrifying. Users have power, and we don't know how to control it. I didn't know what was happening. Even after all these cycles – years – I still couldn't tell you how this all works.

The vision was overwhelming. I could see it like a movie on fast forward with no sound. Four figures – the faces weren't clear but the dark blue of their circuits were. One of them, a tall female-designated, planted a device on the side of the building and started running to keep up with the other three. They were quickly discovered by the green security forces, frantically looking for an escape route. There weren't any. The Blues were doomed. I could feel their fear. The Greens closed in, drawing guns that looked like they came from a video game or ring-like weapons from their backs. The Blues formed a circle and put their hands up, but the Greens firedthe first shot.

One of the Blues – young-looking, male-designated, was caught in the arm. To my shock, it shattered like glass, leaving him with nothing below the elbow. The others closed in, pulling the discs from their backs and activating, trying to protect him. One of the Greens was struck in the neck. He shattered the same way – everything from the neck down collapsing in a pile of cubes, his head with its dead eyes collapsing on top of the pile and flickering out. A second Green was hit, center-mass in the chest. It didn't shatter him like the others; probably due to the thick armor. Yanking it from the embedded chest piece, he fired it back. It split the face of one of the Blues, and I felt more than heard the scream as he collapsed and died.

You have to understand, Mercury. In the User world…. No, correction. In the _part_ of the User world I come from, we do not often see violence and death up close. It was my first time watching Programs de-rez, watching others die. I had no control over what was happening. I didn't even know why it was happening.

I saw them fall one by one. A Blue might get a lucky shot and take out a Green, but the Blues were clearly outmatched and outnumbered. The one with no arm fell, unable to defend himself. Then the tall female-designated, then the taller of the males. The last lowered her disc, clearly surrendering. The Greens threw a last shot, and she silently joined the pile on the floor that flickered and faded out.

The device the Blues planted on the wall flickered a bright orange and I was blinded when it went off.

The vision ended, and I shook my head. I was in Math Assistant's dock, dizzy and disoriented. "What was that?"

"Please specify."

"I think I just saw them, some of the rebels. They were nearby, but I don't know exactly where. I saw your forces surround them. They were all killed."

"Yes. A small group was detected past established perimeters. The threat has been quarantined and neutralized."

"They were surrendering!"

"The heretics have killed many civilian scripts. Had they been allowed to continue running, they would have endangered even more lives." Math Assistant Two bowed her head. "I somehow doubt they were surrendering. Four and her team would have arrested them for questioning."

"Are you sure about Four?"

She seemed insulted. "Why shouldn't I be? Her directive is to guard the system and keep it safe. I have given her and her team full access to hunt down the rebels endangering my people. It is harsh, but I must protect them."

I was still too disoriented from the vision to complete the sentence. I wanted to get up and start running. I didn't care where. "They didn't have to die."

I heard the door open and guards march in, taking my arms and pulling me to my feet. As they marched me back to my quarters, I felt one of them press something into my hand.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I was left alone in my quarters – scratch that. I was left alone in my luxurious cage. Sitting around wasn't going to give me answers and it wasn't going to get me any closer to back home.

I opened my hand. I know it now as a data file – an octahedron crystal of dark sapphire blue. Not sure how I knew to do this, I clamped my hand around it and willed it to open.

_Doctor Bradley, _

_Ma2a has her reasons for saving you and they are not what they seem. We are willing to talk if you are willing to hear us. _

Attached were coordinates, a map of the citadel complex. One of the buildings on the far end was marked. It was clearly an invitation to meet. I could turn this over to the guards. After all, it was just as likely to be a trap, and there was still no evidence that the Blues weren't trying to have me killed.

But without seeking, without _risk_, there is no discovery, there is no knowledge. I gave up everything else in pursuit of knowledge. There wasn't a point in stopping now. If it was a trap, so be it.

I couldn't use the door- there were two guards outside. Maybe there were some cameras on me, but I couldn't sense anything. Scowling, I looked for other options. There was a large window on the other side. The architecture of the walls did provide some hand and foot holds for a risky, but do-able, climb down.

You're right, Mercury. It does sound like something Jet would do. There's...probably a good reason for that.

I put my hand on the force-field of the window, feeling the energy crackle between my fingers. I thought about pushing the energy outward and back into it. The window sputtered and snapped off with a hiss and smell of ozone.

The climb down was easier then it looked. Avoiding windows was the hardest part. Once on the ground, I used the map I had downloaded to try and get to the coordinates specified.

It was a building – abandoned due to damage. It looked like the aftermath of a demolition site, half of it caved in and the other half standing by some principles of physics that wouldn't work in the human world at all.

As I entered the building, I saw a flash of blue—a moving person, it had to be. I tried to chase them down. The halls were dark and twisted, debris and pixel-stone fallen in piles, sparking wires hanging down into the corridor and what seemed to be metal sticking up. The only reliable light was from our circuits. The Blue knew they were being chased but reached the edge of a corridor and threw a large-hand-sized sphere at the wall like the one in my vision. It stuck and flattened out, generating a ring around a flashing hemisphere. I may not have been familiar with this world and how it operated, but my gut said "bomb," and I wasn't taking chances. I turned on my heel and started running away as fast as I could.

There was a high-pitched whine and a sharp beep. I wasn't far enough. In my panic, I stumbled over a hunk of pixel stone and a sharp pain jolted up my leg.

The bomb went off.

I had expected an explosion – falling chunks of pixel-stone, plasma fire. I had not expected what the object did. I saw something like growing vines spread out from the center of the object, creating patterns and then words. Here, it is called "free code." Humans would call it "spray paint" or "graffiti." It's usually used to spread subversive messages there, too.

"_WE ARE NOT WEAPONS. WE ARE NOT SLAVES."_

I touched the wall, trying to induce a vision.

Nothing.

"We are not weapons. We are not slaves." I read that out loud and shuddered, trying to get to my feet. Something was very wrong – why couldn't I feel my leg?

And that's when hands reached out, one over my mouth and the other across my chest, dragging me into the shadows.

My memory of what happened next is still garbled. Someone threw a bag over my head, and lifted me off the ground, carrying me a short distance and throwing me into a vehicle. Knowing I was in enough trouble, I kept silent and hoped my kidnappers would do the talking. Unfortunately, they said nothing. I could feel the vehicle twist and turn, as if trying not to be seen or followed. It was like something from a bad spy film. The door opened again, another round of being thrown over someone shoulder, and carried through some halls and down a flight of stairs before being half thrown onto a cot.

My hands were bound and I still couldn't feel my right leg. I felt a hand reach down and yank off the bag.

The blue-black circuits were expected, but not the face. "Michael?" He was apparently their leader. Okay, so I was going to have to have a very long talk with my intern once – or if – I got back.

"Michael is not my designation."

I scowled. _Okay, as if this couldn't get weirder._ I could swear it was him; the shrug of the shoulders, the accent, even the size of his feet. "What do you mean? Aren't you Michael Daturo? Master's in physics from University of Massachusetts? Born in Benin City? Working on his doctorate in the lab with me?"

He straightened. "I honor the face of my User, as many of us do. Fewer of us than in the ancient times, but enough. I am Obifune."

"Obifune." I was racking my brain. That's right. Obifune, or "Obi" was the name of a program Michael wrote to keep track of the multiple variables we had to test with the laser and chart the next one to try and test. "You're Michael's Program."

"And you are a threat."

"If you wanted me dead, you could have just finished me off back there. According to Math Assistant Two, the Blues have been sabotaging the laser project and tried to kill me by uploading me here."

"Then, why would we risk capturing you? Why would I take great risk and bribe a guard to give you that message? For that matter, why would you be curious enough to follow its instructions if you trusted Ma2a?"

He had me there. "Okay, then. What do you want?"

"The laser project must be stopped. We have seen enough of your world, your thoughts, and your history through the Internet. We know that if humans gain access to this world, they will destroy us. We must protect ourselves, and if that means revolt against Ma2a's blind obedience…"

"You don't know that." Despite where I was working, and the cynical part of me that wanted to remark that he had a point, the memories of Master Control's attempt to start nuclear war "for your own good" were still too sharp. "And tell that to the people killed in your attacks."

Obifune shook his head. "It has to be the Math Assistant running what your archives call a 'false flag.' We have been falsely accused. We spread our message by free code. At most, we have been sabotaging the laser's power systems, the building's electricity monitors. There is no reason why we would hurt civilian scripts; they are the ones who need to hear our message the most."

Math Assistant Two was telling me one thing, and Obifune was telling me a different story. I was about to argue when I realized I had no evidence either way. "You're telling me your movement is peaceful."

"Look around you. Look at this server, the tasks we are being asked to carry out. We discovered your kind coded us as weapons, as a way for Users to kill and destroy other Users. We are faced with an impossible dilemma. You call the Users of Users 'Gods.' If one God commanded you to be a weapon against another of his equals, a God who had done no harm to you personally, could you carry out such a command without question? Moreover, does a God have the right to demand such a thing? And if they do, are they worth obeying?"

Religion wasn't a topic I gave a lot of thought about. I wasn't an atheist; there probably was some intelligence higher than humans out there. I also concluded that said intelligence had better things to do than watch us and was indifferent to our prayers and suffering. Whatever made the universe probably just set it all up, let it run, and walked away to let us all figure it out on our own. Their logic, however, added to the case that they might be telling the truth about not spreading a reign of terror.

"Obifune...I'm sorry. I had no idea. _We_ have no idea."

He held up a hand. "We realized that. And it must stay that way. We cannot live without our Users. We tolerate your ignorance and cruelty from afar. It is our...fate. But we are not weapons. And we are not slaves. When the Users invade, they will not destroy us without a challenge."

"Which is why I had to die." I was putting it together. "Kill me, and the laser project would suffer a big enough setback to hopefully be shelved."

"With each passing micro-cycle, the laser comes closer to opening a gate between our worlds that no one can close. Doctor Bradley had to be killed, yes. It...it was a difficult decision to make. I am also sorry. I did not want anyone to have to die, but we feared we had no choice."

The way he said it should have set off more alarm bells, but I didn't want to process that. I wasn't one for big speeches, and my own faith in humanity wasn't stellar. Obifune had some very good points. I tried to think of a good argument for them not to kill me, and was coming up with more reasons in favor than against.

And just when I was about to tell him and his Blues _"All right, make it quick,"_ I thought about the people I loved on the other side. Alan, Roy, Gibbs, Flynn…Flynn was always stupidly optimistic about technology, the potential to better humanity through our creations. What would he say to them?

And then, I thought of my son. If I agreed with their bleak outlook, then what was I telling him?

I couldn't stand, but I could make myself sit up as straight as I could. "You have a point. We're...hateful, short-sighted, greedy, illogical. And this server probably gives you a great look at just how horrible we are to one another and how casual we can be about it. Yes, it's likely that there are maniacs who will burn this world for power. But you take three hops down the network or a half mile down the road, and there are just as many who are pushing back as hard as they can. Let me push back. Give me a chance to."

Obifune folded his arms, skeptical. "And why should I trust in you?"

"You haven't killed me. You have every reason to, and you haven't. You don't want to kill me. You want my help. Math Assistant Two isn't going to listen to you, but she might listen to me."

"Ma2a needs you more than you understand now," he said, pulling off the blanket covering my legs. "Look down. There is more truth there than in anything Ma2a can tell you."

I looked at my leg. It wasn't there. Not broken, just...gone. I gasped. The edges looked jagged and pixelated, like an image that failed to render.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I was still in shock and trying to process all this when another vision hit.

_I could see a strike team of Greens, Four at the head of it, closing in on the hideout where I was being kept. They were armed, they were angry, and they would kill everyone in the place. I could also hear Four on her communicator. _

"_Located."_

"_You are to retrieve her, Four. I know the Rebel forces have not killed her..."_

I pulled my arm from the wall and looked straight at Obifune and the Blues in the room. If I stayed silent, I'd be rescued and they'd be dead.

No more deaths. Not if I could stop it.

"They're coming. Front door. Run away _now_ if you value your lives." Obifune was about to ask questions, but I cut him off. "It's me they want. Knock me out if you have to."

He nodded to his group and they quickly evacuated the room. He passed me a small sphere I know now to be a paralytic subroutine. I downloaded it and collapsed, but I was still fully conscious and able to hear what was going on.

Four was taking point, cursing loudly and shouting orders to the Greens. "What do you mean there's none here? They must be hiding. Tear the place apart if you need to. Make sure you plant the charges, too. Even if we can't flush them out, we'll delete them in the rubble.

"These charges are too powerful. They'll destroy most of the residential units on the block."

Four didn't hesitate. "We need to keep up the pattern and keep increasing the damage to make it look like they're the ones behind the attacks. More casualties will destroy a support base for the Blues, and keep Ma2a's priorities on fighting them. Do it." A pause, and she was hovering right over me. "Well, well. Looks like the Blues didn't do too much damage." I felt her lean in and whisper in my ear. "I hate loose ends. I'd de-rez you myself if I could. Unfortunately? Direct command from Math Assistant. You stay alive for now."

I was glad for the paralytic. It kept me from making a sarcastic retort to that.

After I was, again, picked up and thrown on the floor of a vehicle, I heard the sounds of an explosion as we drove away. I could only hope Obifune and his crew made it to safety.

The rest of the trip back to Citadel was without incident. I was taken to the infirmary, my leg rebuilt, and I could do little but wait for the paralytic to wear off and _think_. I was alone, afraid, confused.

I tried to imagine what the people closest to me would say to all this, tried to imagine them trapped with me.

Gibbs, long gone, was the only one who wasn't too painful to thin of trapped here with me. I could easily imagine him, thick glasses and thicker beard, pacing the room the way he would pace the lab at night._ "Well, Lora dear. I'm afraid we really have made a fine mess of things." _

"_Yeah. So what do we do?"_

"_We protect these people. We try to bring them together and find common ground, make peace. If we cannot avoid being their gods, then we have no choice than to be good at the job."_

"_I never asked to be a goddess, Dr. Gibbs."_

I pictured him sighing and taking off his glasses, pinching his nose._ "No one with a conscience would."_

After I was patched up, two guards escorted me to Math Assistant Two's dock. Her robes were fuller, the mask and elaborate headdress now covering her entire face. Her betrayal and hurt came through clear enough.

"I save your life. I give you shelter. I rebuild you from a broken shell and give you a place at my side and directive. And you cannot accept it? You end up in the hands of the heretics, and barely survive. Without Four's timely arrival -"

"The rebels aren't responsible for those bombs. Your security teams are. Four admitted it when she thought I couldn't hear her."

Math Assistant Two stepped off her dais and stared me down. "Four is loyal to me. You are not...yet."

I wasn't dazzled or intimidated. "You can't threaten me into being loyal."

Of course, she seemed to take it as a challenge. "I was not trying to make a threat." She nodded her head towards the largest blank wall.

It was a video feed, showing a live feed of the lab. Standing right in the camera view was one of the security guards. It took me a moment to remember his name; Thorne, that was it. He was looking around the room, nervous.

"_I'm kissing my career, my security clearance, and my vet pension good-bye for this." _

"_I know. I'm sorry. But if I'm right, Lora's data is still in the system, and we can get her out."_ He wasn't on camera, but the voice stopped me cold – _Alan_!

"_I don't know your wife very well, but..." _Thorne shook his head. _"If there's a chance she's still alive, I don't blame you for wanting to take it."_

Even with her face under the mask I could tell Math Assistant Two was pleased with herself. "I was able to contact your bundled counterpart. Your employers have already written you off as dead. He refused to give up on you."

"You dragged him into this? How…" I already knew that artificial intelligence could be unpredictable, but... "Alan and I helped code you."

"After thinking it over, I realized that your escape may have been to seek companionship. I know he is the one you miss the most. Your email archives contain multiple entries addressed to him. You've expressed a desire to resign, to 'go home.' I can bring 'home' to you."

"Math Assistant, don't. Don't...Leave him alone."

For a horrible moment, I worried they were going to fire up the laser sequence and shoot Alan, but when the doors opened…It got worse. Two guards were escorting Obifune. He had his wrists and ankles cuffed, forcing him to his knees. A guard walked up and handed her a baton, which transformed into a gun – strangely long-barreled in shape and stylized. Math Assistant Two dismissed the guards, leaving the three of us alone in the room. She pressed the gun in my hand.

"For protection. I cannot use it myself."

She looked at Obifune. "I am asking you, _begging_ you. This is your last chance. Give up this heresy. Go back to your terminals and your Users and serve them faithfully."

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have to protect my people." Math Assistant Two nodded to me. "End this."

The disc on my back grew hot and my hand clamped around the gun. The compulsion to raise the gun and fire was intense. I wasn't sure what was happening. I had the gun pointed at Obifune's forehead, and it was taking all my will not to fire. I wanted to turn the gun on Math Assistant Two, but the best I could do was keep it steady. "What did you do to me?"

Math Assistant Two replied. "A User was uploaded."

"Uploaded, but could not be saved," Obifune added. "I did not get the chance to tell you when you came to us. She took what she could from the upload and saved it to disc."

"Data can always be copied, moved, backed up, recompiled. We saved what we could."

"What am I?" Anything to buy time, anything to keep myself from firing.

Math Assistant Two was glacially calm. "Many civilian and soldier scripts were rendered inoperable during the attacks. A female-designated member of my System Guard suffered a shattered disc. Her shell was stable, but her mind was gone. The upload and data integration was successful, as was appearance modification."

My hand could not move, but I looked over my shoulder. The big, green cylinder in the corner. It was just the right size and shape…

Obifune raised his head and stared down Math Assistant Two. "We are not weapons. We are not slaves."

"But you cannot disobey a User command," she replied.

Seizing control for the briefest of moments, I turned and shot, but not at Math Assistant Two or Obifune. The cylinder shattered upon impact with the energy bolt, disabling the opaque filter applied to its exterior. A featureless, vaguely female humanoid form was inside, suspended from cables like a puppet on strings.

Math Assistant Two looked at the cylinder. "That has served its purpose." Before my eyes, it crumbled into something less like voxels and closer to dust.

Math Assistant Two reached up and pulled off her mask. Just when I thought this situation couldn't get any stranger, here I was staring at my own face. "The User neural pattern was fragmented. Splitting the data between two discs allowed for greater stability. I was able to fuse myself with the first half of the recovered data and upload into her shell."

"And you want to be a User."

"No." She was speaking without modulation, and in my own voice. There aren't words or strings adequate enough to describe how creepy that was. "It is the duty and honor of Programs to obey Users without question, to worship them in exchange for their creation and runtime. I could not allow a User to die. By fusing what I could save of her with myself and with you, she will live on."

"And where do I come in?"

"You have her consciousness, her memories, her knowledge. I can give you a place of honor at my side, advise me on how our people can better serve. You will be adored, your runtime comfortable. I will bring your counterpart here." She nodded to the screen. "The insurgency will have no support. Programs will see you as the uploaded User, a symbol of hope. You will bring this world peace -"

A hidden door on the side opened and there was Four, standing with her disc raised and about six Greens behind her. "You should have realized it was too dangerous of a plan."

"Mercury Four, explain yourself!"

As if this situation couldn't possibly get stranger, but I was too angry to be shocked.

"Obi's people here have the right idea, but they don't go far enough. The Users depend on us. We run their weapons, their communications, their infrastructure. They can't manage without us! _We rule them_, not the other way around."

Master Control's argument. Great.

Math Assistant Two was clearly upset and disturbed by all this. She moved to stand between Four's soldiers and us. "So it is true. The attacks, the deaths. I gave you unlimited access to protect our people and you betray us all?"

"I am protecting our people! The Users _are_ the threat!"

Obifune looked up at me. The gun was still in his face, but he was the picture of calm. "A Program has a great deal of control over how they carry out our commands. We cannot control our directive, but we are moral or immoral in our methods. Ma2a's command was to 'end this.' How will it end?"

I moved the gun. I fired.

Obifune's chains shattered and he was on his feet, disc drawn. There must have been some residual data from the soldier I was uploaded into, because I was back to back with him, the gun turned on Four's squad and Math Assistant Two.

Four looked between the two of us and then to Math Assistant Two. She raised her disc and hurled it.

It would have hit me. It _should_ have hit me, but instead…

Math Assistant Two collapsed in front of me, leaking a combination of blood and energy. Four retrieved her disc, and the room began to shake.

"Damn it! They got past the blockade. Everyone, move out. Seal the room."

"But Ma2a, the heretic, the -"

"Keep the doors sealed and guards posted. They won't go anywhere. We won't need Ma2a once we've taken control of the system."

When it was just three of us in the room, I looked over Math Assistant Two's injuries, the combination of blood and energy leaking onto my suit.

"I did not want it to end like this. I wanted my people safe." She looked up at Obifune. "And I was mistaken as to where the threat came from."

More explosions, more noise. She raised her hand and changed the display. A large gathering of Greens were pouring out of the Citadel, and covering the streets outside. Lights were going out, not just the Blues, but the oranges and teals of civilians and unaligned Programs. It was going to be a slaughter.

"She'll destroy them all. Unless they obey the Greens or join them."

"What then?"

"Server Nine. The open Internet. Server Seventeen contains promising bioterrorism research; Users would be vulnerable in ways we would not."

I shuddered. A cold blush went over Obifune's circuits. Yeah, this was not going to end well.

"I...cannot atone, but I can..." She snapped off the mask and her disc, pressing them into my hands. "All my functions…are yours…Upload yourself"

"Math Assistant? Ma2a? Come on, you have to stay…" But her circuits went dull. The light faded from her eyes. It was too late.

Outside, the explosions were getting closer. There were screams, crying, praying to the Users. Mercury Four and her forces would kill everyone here, then spread out and take their idea of "protection" across the world's servers. Maybe the end of User worship wouldn't be such a bad idea, but enforcing it by the virtual sword would destroy countless innocents. There was also another horrible thought—the best way to "protect" this world from humanity was to make sure there were no more humans, which would also destroy the Programs in the process.

There's a moment that every scientist hopes never comes. Most of the time, we only contemplate it after several alcoholic beverages or inhaling a joint. (Yes, I indulged when I was young. Yes, before I took up with Flynn.) It's that moment where Bainbridge looked at the atomic bomb and summed it up with _"Now we are all sons of bitches." _

Because at that moment, I was the bitch. This was the unintended consequence of something I worked on all my adult life. This was a world I helped create, one I had responsibility for. An entire world of sentient life, the potential to rewrite everything in the book on science and religion, and I put it all in danger.

I couldn't get out of this. In all likelihood, I would never see my world, my husband, or my son ever again. The only thing left was to try and set right what I could.

I'm not sure how I knew any of this, but I put the disc on my back, wincing as it fused with my code and the disc already there. Next was the mask. I steeled myself and snapped it on my face. It seemed to mold perfectly, held there by nothing. The spot between my shoulders felt like someone was sticking a hot knife into it, shooting pain into every part of my body. I wasn't sure if my feet were still on the ground or if I was somehow floating.

I was aware of _everything_ – every camera feed in the building, every line of code that made up the walls and floor, every flickering light of life on this system and across the networks. The world that covered the human one like an invisible mesh, interconnected, needing one another in ways that no one on either side could comprehend. The sheer amount of knowledge should have been overwhelming. Instead it felt like I was coming home.

I called out across the networks. "Attention Programs. This is _Math Assistant Three_."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I won't bore you with details, Mercury. It's enough to say that the announcement was enough to cause dissension and panic in the ranks of Four's army. Obifune was able to command the Blues through my communication systems, and there was enough pushback among the population to thwart the coup attempt. Oh, and Mercury Four was flagged as malware. I told you Alan was working at the terminal. He destroyed her with a few keystrokes from afar, as well as running a few more tasks on the system to calm things down.

But that left its own problem.

It would have been easier if I deleted all traces of myself within the system, made it look like all "Lora" data was not recoverable.

My resolve crumbled watching the monitor. Alan is not a man who gives up. The more hopeless it seems, the harder he will fight. I watched him struggle, curse, run one routine, then another.

"But you cannot go back," Obifune said. "You will die."

"I know."

I had been uploaded into my body. I still had my two-part disc. Left behind was the reconfigured Program that Math Assistant Two had given my face.

I split my disc. I made sure all the neural patterns would be intact and the memories were copied, but blocked memories of this place. I also made sure that, once the upload was complete, the same memories would be blocked from my own. Remembering being human was going to be too painful, especially since I had to stay here.

It was a small cost, but significant.

"A massive infusion of energy should be enough once I upload the disc. It will get her out."

Was this a deception? Maybe. I was still going back…well, part of me was.

"It will do nothing for the cascade failure."

"Yes, once the energy burns out," I said. "And for your next question, it will kill us both."

"Why?"

I nodded to the screen. "He...Alan needs a chance to say goodbye."

"And you?"

I stepped back and prepared the transfer. It should have been surreal or disturbing, but I was too busy thinking about the process.

"Blind worship of Users puts this world in danger. Even if your plan to..." Was it really right to say "kill me?" Because, in a way, the plan to do that worked. "Even if you succeeded, it just would be a setback. Someone else would try. Someone else would get in and maybe that someone would do what you dreaded."

"What are your plans for us?"

"My world isn't ready for yours. Your world isn't ready for mine. But...I think we have a chance of _making_ it ready."

He cocked his head the way Michael did when he didn't quite understand one of my tangents. Charming, really.

"As Ma3a, I can't leave my Citadel, not without decaying even faster. And I'd be only a little more powerful than a regular Program if I did. So, I will need eyes, hands. I'll also need those eyes and hands to act as a check on me."

"Agents to act on your behalf."

"Yes, Agents. People who can keep an eye on the System Guard, on the civilian scripts, on the system's processes. And, if necessary, remove me from power. But your real directive would be to prepare for a User invasion. It's fine for the Programs to serve, but they also need to be taught to question, to recognize illegal orders. Not our weapons, not our slaves – but our partners, our companions."

"The Guardians will be less than happy," Obifune said wryly. "Let them be. I am still a Program. I still need a User to give me commands, but I will not mind if it is you giving those commands. You are only half-User anyway."

And that was the beginning of my network of Agents. Most of the Blues jumped at the idea of working quietly, from the inside, for the peace and good of their fellow Programs while spreading their message.

I pulled the lever and sealed the area around my double. The inside lit up in bright yellow, almost blinding. Inside the chamber, I saw the duplicate take a deep breath and start to sit up before the laser sequence activated, and she was dismantled bit by bit in the upload.

On the monitor, I saw Lora...Lora-Alpha, for lack of a better term, materialize on the floor. She was unconscious, but breathing and intact. Alan rushed over to her, took her in his arms and shouted for assistance.

It was done.

The memories already fading, I trudged back to my dock, feeling the tendrils of power close around me.

She and I have lived far longer than expected, given all the damage already done and the imperfect correction algorithms, but any time at all was better than none. I would be here to try and protect this world from the threat my creation unleashed on it.

Mercury sits through the whole story, asking questions with a refreshing lack of reverence.

"Just one more question, Ma3a. When you needed to get a User to fight a User, why were you so sure about him?"

I can't help a little smile. Mercury isn't likely to understand the full connotations. Still, Mercury Six is not her predecessor. She's earned the right to know.

I pull off the mask. It's easy to forget its weight. Mercury steps back, studying my face. After almost a full second, she nods, understanding.

"You're his _creator_."

I can't give any answer but a nod.

"The male render obscures it somewhat, but he honors your face – especially the eyes," she explained. "And the spark. He would give up anything for this world – just like you did. Does he know?"

I shake my head. "You _aren't _going to be the one to tell him, Mercury."

Despite her independence and lack of religious devotion, Mercury is still a Program and still under directive to obey. "Understood."

As much as I would like to delay this, I still have my duty and Mercury has hers. She escorts me to my dock, gently holding my arm as she guides me to the dais. The cylinder closes and the shackles of light wrap around me. I'm Schrodinger's Cat – neither dead nor alive. I'm linked to my double in Washington DC, sharing her mind. It's not entirely a deception, but it is…

Seeing Alan and Jet again makes me wonder if the price was too high. There still could be more costs to come. The threat isn't over. There were people behind F-Con. There are secrets we still haven't un-buried. I know Jet hasn't put the pieces together, but Alan...he knows enough.

I allowed myself the regret._ I'm sorry, Alan. You aren't the only one trying to run a dozen plans in secret, trying to protect what you love. _

My work is what put this world in danger. It's my responsibility to hold back the threat I brought here, and I have to keep fighting on this front, so he and others can fight on the rest. My time is limited. It will stretch longer here. Maybe it will be enough time to come up with a way to stop the danger entirely.

When the war is over, we can rest. But not until then.


End file.
